


seasons fly.

by blushzzt



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kinda, M/M, Non Idol!AU, Other, and illness, but there's not a lot of reference to it ig, implied depression, not my best work, there's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 09:19:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15240240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blushzzt/pseuds/blushzzt
Summary: Linong's first love is autumn, summer and spring all at once. Winter comes later than expected.





	seasons fly.

It’s another Sunday in which Linong goes to the hill. He notices the wind is colder than usual. The slope seems steeper and he feels like he’s going to fall. It’s just him and his imagination, he thinks, it’s just how time goes.

You’re here again, somewhere close to him but also so far away. He smiles at you occasionally, sweet but cautious, as if you were some kind of being who could make his whole body tremble with just a look (you do).

His palms are sweating, color rising to his cheeks and a mess of words occurring in his head. The silence soothes him; the wind grazes against his skin, playing with his hair, trapping murmurs and trying to fade away blooming springs.

He sees your impatient foot, tapping an unfamiliar melody along with a soft hum. Linong assumes you’re waiting for your significant other so he realizes how bad it looks, having an infatuation gone to waste without even saying a word.

He’s having crushed and torn feelings about you because you’re another one of his endless lists of  _it-could’ve-been’s_. It could’ve been good if he had said something, it could’ve been something if he had talked to you, it could’ve been something more if he had asked you out.

Maybe you notice his frown because you turn at him with a dumbfounded expression and a face full of worry and confusion. Linong’s stunned and tries not to gasp, you’re more beautiful up close and everything seems to stop.

You’re the color orange, the sweetness of chocolate cups in the mornings and the warmth of an over-sized sweater. You look like the dawn, like autumn. Hell, you  _are_  the dawn and the autumn. How couldn’t you, when you have such an effect on him?

 _But you don’t fit_. You’re the purest white while he’s the blackest black. You’re always looking at the sky while he’s always looking at his shoes. You’re a reason to smile while he’s plain and only brings sad memories. You’re unable to reach.

Linong’s attention diverts to the sound of tiny footsteps and loud giggles.

“Uncle, I’ve arrived!” a little boy runs to him, hugging his leg.

“Hey, you little bug. Why are you always late?” he asks, ruffling his hair.

“Mom forgot the direction and we got lost!” he pouts and puffs his cheeks.

Linong gives him the blue balloon he’s been holding. His nephew beams at him, even does a little “thank you” dance while chuckling in a high-pitched tone. You let out a small laugh, twirling like a petal in the breeze.

“You’re adorable.”

Your grin is as bright as the sun and he can’t help but think that perhaps, his world would have a chirp of colour if he stays longer with you.

And he does.

 

* * *

 

Night starts with shy smiles, orange scents and lemon curd.

Linong can’t believe you’re in front of him, existing, living, staying. How did someone like you agree to spending the night with someone like him?

He’s afraid that if he tries to touch you, you might become sand in his hands. He’s afraid that if he looks away just for a mere moment, you won’t be there proving his theory of you being and illusion. So his eyes stay fixated on you and he tries to enjoy this night to its limits.

_Because he knows you won’t last._

Soon, the thing escalates and it becomes into wholehearted laughs and rose-tinted cheeks. So much time has passed since the last time he laughed that it feels sore in his throat and it hurts but in a good way. He keeps laughing.

Linong learns that you’re just like summer. Fun, straightforward, and with a burning passion. He sees your eyes sparkle when you talk about the perfect way to make an omelette and how you almost start jumping because of how good the food was. He likes that simplicity about you.

“Tell me, why does your nephew like blue so much?” you ask, while munching on a piece of bread.

“I don’t know. It must be because it was his father’s favorite color.”

You don’t say anything else and just stare deeply into his eyes.

He feels like you’re sorry. Maybe you understood what his words actually meant, what his nephew has been through. No, he’s sure, you do. He doesn’t like it when you’re like that, when you look smaller than usual.

“What’s your favourite colour?” he asks.

“I… don’t like blue. It’s too sad,” you twirl the fork between your fingers, “I prefer red. It’s more appealing.”

“Isn’t red too bold for someone like you?”

“And isn’t blue too cold for someone like him?”

Linong shrugs, not knowing what to say.

You’re so different. He’s always been observing, in the corner, and counting how many shades of darkness surround him. His apartment smells like strong coffee and splutters of anger in paint. He hates it when people tell him to smile, because he forgot how to do it a long time ago. But there you are, reopening and healing wounds.

“You know, everybody can refill their eyes with colour,” you whisper.

And he lets himself to believe those words just for one night, he lets himself to think that he might be in love with you just for one night. Because by tomorrow, everything will be gone.

 

* * *

 

 

You prove him wrong by visiting him at the end of the week with homemade cookies and waves of happiness. Linong’s surprised to see you, and he almost closed the door, thinking he was seeing things.

He sees your red shirt and thinks he might start liking red. But he scratches that immediately because his life has always been with shadows dancing, total blackness, negative spaces and no signs of color. He can’t have color.

He lets you in, wanting to spend a day with just you and your soft voice. You drown him with your abyss of words and honey-like giggles. It doesn’t matter, because it will end soon, right?

But those days become weeks and then months and then half a year and it’s too late for him.

Linong’s too drawn to you and he bets you feel the same way too. He bets you also feel the wind running along the spine when you see each other, a garden of flowers in mid-spring when you laugh and a fluttering heart refusing to calm down at any moment. But he also bets you don’t feel an aching pain in your chest ripping you off, like he does, because he knows he will have to let go soon.

Today is different. You sit on the couch—you say you’ve grown fond of it—and look. There are no words in between. Linong wonders, he wonders if it’s okay to feel this way, to love somebody so much that it tears him apart, that maybe he’s confusing himself and maybe you don’t want to start a relationship.

You stop those thoughts by closing the negative space within you. It’s a short kiss, but he has never felt so many rushing emotions spreading in his veins. You taste like spring. Your lips are as warm as a cup of rosemary tea and you smell like the rain with the rainbow reflected.

Linong doesn’t know which season is now, autumn, summer or spring. You are… you.

 

* * *

 

 

Time passes and he still feels weird. You’ve made his world burst with explosions of vibrant reds, aquamarine blues and bright yellows. Maybe you’re a magician in disguise.

Every day with you is different, from loud chatters to cuddles while watching old movies. He learns a lot about you. How you love dearly painting but hates drawing. How you muster weird chants when you’re about to do an exam. How you start shaking your arms when you’re excited.

Linong’s sure you’ve refilled everything.

* * *

 

 

Everything falls when you appear at his doorstep with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. Your hair is drenched even though it’s not raining outside. You look small and vulnerable, even more when you jump into his arms.

You start crying and instead of the colors orange, red and pink you fill negative spaces with, only loud sobs can be heard. Linong feels his heart shatter. Your chest moves up and down, your hands grip his shirt. You’re slumping down in the thin air.

The glass-like mood cuts words, thoughts and breaths. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. He starts combing and stroking your hair while whispering words of “it’s okay” into your ear. He doesn’t dare to say I’m sorry.

Because  _I’m sorry’s_  are for when you stain his shirt after a food battle in the kitchen,  _I’m sorry’s_  are for when he’s late to some late night outing,  _I’m sorry’s_  are for when you fall asleep in his arms.  _I’m sorry’s_  are for little things in your life which has brought you closer.

When your cries have quietened down, you’re trembling. With dry lips, you whisper in puffs of air.

“I’m dying.”

Linong is breaking. Your words fall onto him heavily and he hugs you tighter than before. He grabs your hand and plants a deep kiss on your ring finger. He lets himself to be weak with you, just one more time. Just before you’re gone.

_Winter has never felt so cold._

* * *

 

 

Linong’s on the hill again. He’s still indecisive. Is it okay doing it today? Or maybe tomorrow? Will it reach you? He knows when he untangles that tie there’s no going back. He never knows what to do.

He closes his eyes and remembers. He remembers small things and big things about his life and the first time you told him you loved him and how he ran away embarrassed by the situation. How you were always there for him, shining.

He knows he has to move on and stop being stuck in the past.

_Because seasons fly and so do hearts._

He takes a deep breath and exhales. He looks up at the sky and smiles for the first time in months.

He lets go a certain red balloon with an “I love you” written over it.

**Author's Note:**

> this was something i wrote a long time ago?? i translated it into english so here we are


End file.
